


Soul Food

by Avelera



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ficlet, Food, Headcanon, Healing, Hobbits, M/M, Prompt Fic, Regeneration, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:37:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera/pseuds/Avelera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbits have a special brand of magic beyond their ability to sneak, how else could a race as small as them eat seven full meals a day, walk everywhere barefoot, and survive in a world where orcs and barrow-wights are commonplace?<br/>The twist is: it also affects their soulmate.</p><p>Or: In which hobbit magic makes things very complicated for Bilbo Baggins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akahime4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akahime4/gifts).



> I did this ficlet based on a prompt by the lovely Akahime4: The fandom of the LotR has often been mystified by the voracious appetites of the Hobbits, yet few authors have addressed or tried to expand on this fact beyond cultural differences...So how would you explain this?
> 
> I'm thinking of expanding further upon this idea in the future, since it extrapolates nicely to several other situations in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, but we'll have to wait and see.

“But where does he _put_ it all?” Ori said, voicing what every dwarf at Elrond’s table had been thinking when Bilbo put away as much food as six dwarves _combined_ , including Bombur. Granted, it was mostly greens, but Bofur had been _counting_ for them and the sheer number of plates should have been enough to choke a horse.

“It’s not natural,” Dori muttered. “It should be coming out his ears.” As he spoke, Bilbo gratefully accepted another platter.

“Can’t heal myself otherwise,” Bilbo muttered after swallowing. “You do know it’s rude to speak about someone behind their back?”

“’Twas hardly behind your back, you just couldn’t hear us over the munching,” Bofur said, with stunned admiration. No sooner had Bilbo accepted the plate than it was cleaned.

Bilbo seemed to consider this, nodding as he finished chewing and swallowed the final bite. “I noticed you all don’t heal as easily, Kili still has that scrape from the run in with the trolls. I just assumed you hadn’t eaten enough.”

“And would eating change anything?” Bofur said.

“See, that’s what I didn't put together at first,” Bilbo said, twirling his fork and eyeing another plate, but the conversation seemed to have distracted him somewhat from his gorging. “I’d heard that other races weren’t like us, but it’s quite another thing to see it in practice. Hobbits eat some seven meals a day.” This was greeted by a chorus of disbelieving exclamations from the dwarves. “It’s how we go around barefoot, and why we’ve not been overrun by enemies or plague. A well-fed hobbit heals,” Bilbo snapped his fingers, “just like that. Actually I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather lately what with how I’ve been starving on this trip. Had I known I would have packed what was left of my larder.” The last was accompanied by a not entirely good-natured glare.

“Is that some sort of hobbit magic?” Bofur exclaimed.

“Of a sort. We’ve got a bit of it, you know, mostly to do with hiding from Big Folk. Not that we need any special skill when they come stomping around and deafening themselves,” as Bilbo spoke he plucked some of the leftovers from Ori’s plate beside him, munching idly and speak between swallows. “I suppose this is just part of it. We’d never last a year if we were as fragile as you lot are.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a dwarf referred to as ‘fragile’,” Balin chuckled. “Tell me, lad, is there any chance of sharing some of this talent of yours? It’d be quite useful to be able to pull an injured comrade out of a scrape.”

Bilbo did the most peculiar thing then. He made a rather strangled sound at the back of his throat and _blushed_ , to the roots of his hair. “I-well, I mean that is… it’s not something one _talks_ about in polite company!”

 _Now_ the dwarves were interested, crowding in closer around their furiously blushing burglar. Even Dwalin and Thorin perked up from their conversation, leaning in. “Well, now you _have_ to explain it!” Bofur said.

From the unhappy look on Bilbo’s face, he had realized this too. “It’s not something we can _control_ , precisely. All… well, most hobbits have a second person they can heal. Some even more, though that’s considered quite scandalous and mostly rumor. You’ll laugh when you hear and… oh this is _terribly_  embarrassing…” The hobbit fretted, touching the tips of his fingers together. His food lay forgotten, which was a marvel of itself.

“If you don’t want to tell us…” Balin began, but Bilbo waved him off.

“No, no, I’m sure I’ll get no peace at all from this lot if I don’t. Alright,” Bilbo took a deep breath. “Hobbits who are…married. Or in love. Or just… friends, and… oh blast! Look, when a hobbit is very close to another person,” Bilbo said, changing his pitch as if he were speaking to small and slightly dim children, “when they love each other very much, sometimes their healing works on one another. Or not. It can be one sided, which is very sad, but there’s nothing to be done for it and people get on with their lives.”

“Oh, so your _kurdel_ ,” Balin said, leaning back with all evidence that he was satisfied. “Well, that’s useful. Quite useful indeed! But I don’t understand why you were so embarrassed about it?”

Bilbo blinked. “ _Kurdel_?”

“Your heart.” Everyone in the Company looked up, Bilbo nearly starting from his seat at the unexpected voice and saw Thorin, his expression giving away nothing as he watched the burglar.

Balin made a frustrated noise. “Thorin, it’s not right to be translating… Bah, I suppose it’s my own fault. Master Baggins, we dwarves also have a version of what you speak, so it does not seem strange to us at all that hobbits may too have a _kurdel_ , or a soul mate as many call it, and that there are some benefits to the arrangement is not strange either. A great deal passes between  _kurdel_ that is not clear to outsiders, and when a dwarf with a _kurdel_  passes away, it leaves a terrible mark on the love they left behind. That is why it is said that dwarves only love once.”

Bilbo realized his mouth was hanging open at this point and he closed it quickly. “Well,” he sputtered. “So long as everyone understands… perhaps you will not be so quick to tease about my eating habits.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Bofur said innocently.

 

It was just as well that they were filled up on rations from Rivendell when they departed, because in the ensuing weeks across the Misty Mountains, and below them in the caves, and above in the burning pine trees, keeping Bilbo well-fed turned out to be more important than any could have dreamed. The battering he received from tumbling into the depths of the caverns and landing near that Gollum-creature alone would have killed any Man or even Dwarf who had fallen with him, and his reserves were severely depleted by the next morning, when they dismounted from their Eagles upon the Carrock. Fortunately, they were not yet entirely spent.

Bilbo was still glowing from Thorin’s embrace, feeling warm and content and strangely tired all at once, when he heard it.

“Well, bless my beard,” Oin’s gravelly voice said. “I thought that warg had bit clean through you, Thorin, but there’s hardly a scratch!”

Bilbo froze, turning around with the jerky motions of a marionette, as if compelled against his will, to look into Thorin’s eyes. They were similarly stricken, as one by one Oin’s words dawned on the Company.

“Err, are you hungry, Bilbo?” Fili said. The space between Bilbo and Thorin seemed to crackle as they stared at one another, and the entire Company stared at them.

“Starved,” Bilbo said, and without breaking eye-contact reached a hand out to accept an entire loaf of bread from Fili’s hand, somehow saved despite the chaos of the previous evening. He inhaled it so quickly it didn’t even leave crumbs on his fingers.

“I suppose I should thank you,” Thorin said gravely, extending his hand towards Bilbo. The touch was electrifying as their fingers met, and before Bilbo’s disbelieving eyes the cut across Thorin’s nose began to heal. His own stomach growled.

“Oh, I’m sure there will be time for that later,” Bilbo said weakly, because Thorin was looking at him like finest of treasures and he was feeling very lost in those blue eyes.

Things had suddenly become very, very complicated.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by _insanely_ popular demand! I intend to do one more chapter covering excerpts from BotFA as they fit into this Soulmate AU. Thank you everyone for your overwhelming support, and especially to the betas who did so much to clean this chapter up! I hope you enjoy.

“Here you go,” Bilbo said, passing the parcel through the bars to Thorin. The dwarf gratefully accepted, unwrapping it to reveal a loaf of bread, a couple of carrots, and an apple. Thorin made a face, quickly hidden, and set it aside.

Bilbo settled down next to the door to Thorin’s cell, pulling his knees up to his chest, off his feet for the first time that day. The great, galumphing elves were far off at the moment, their guard rounds not taking them by the dwarves for at least another hour, and he enjoyed the relative comfort of the stone floor compared to sneaking around invisible with his heart in his throat.

Thorin had taken out the carrot with a sigh and bit into it, settling on his side of the door so their shoulders touched. He chewed half-heartedly, and after a moment his free hand slipped between the bars and wrapped around Bilbo’s. Neither looked down or acknowledged this, but Bilbo’s hand tightened around Thorin’s.

“Are they still not feeding you well?” Bilbo said sympathetically as Thorin chewed. At least he could steal from the storerooms and stew pots more or less whatever he chose, but the dwarves were slaves to the whims of the elven guards, and Thorin in particular had asked Bilbo to steal extra food for him whenever possible.

“They feed us well enough. At least, none of us know any want,” Thorin said, taking another vicious bite of the carrot and chewing as if it had personally offended him. “No meat as of yet, but there is no shortage of _greens,_ " he added, in a tone that suggested ‘greens’ could be substituted for something far less savory.

“Well, as far as I can tell, elves don’t even eat meat,” Bilbo said, his brow furrowing. “They may not have any around.” 

Thorin snorted, and tossed aside the remaining stem of the carrot. “Thranduil and his court have a passion for hunting. I should know, I went with them often enough in my youth.”

“But I thought…” Bilbo said, trailing off. 

"Elves eat meat just like the rest of us, Master Baggins,” Thorin sighed. “This sudden love of vegetables is simply a joke against Durin’s Folk, just as it was in Rivendell.”

Well, that certainly did it. As much respect as Bilbo might have for Lord Elrond, his overall opinion about Elves was sinking like a stone in the face of their woodland cousins. It was one thing to imprison his friends, but there was no need to be _rude_ about it.

Thorin’s thumb traced idly over Bilbo’s knuckles, then with a grimace he leaned forward, picking up the apple from the heap of food Bilbo had brought him, taking a half-hearted bite out of the side.

“Why are you making that face?” Bilbo said curiously, eying Thorin’s desultory expression as he munched. You would have thought the dwarf was being subjected to thumbscrews with every bite, an expression so peculiar to Bilbo for the sheer fact he had never seen it on a hobbit. No matter the time of day, or even if he had just eaten a feast, a hobbit would accept and gladly eat an apple like that one with every sign of relish. Bilbo eyed the white meat of the fruit, not seeing anything wrong with it, not even a bruise to mar the shiny surface.  “Is there something wrong with it?”

Thorin sighed, sinking down further against the wall of his prison and taking the apple from his lips half-eaten, holding it idly in his left hand, draped over his knee while his right stayed intertwined with Bilbo’s. “I do not wish to be selfish. You’re risking life and limb to bring us information, and to find a method of our escape, and all I can do is wait here in impotence,” Thorin kicked out at the bars of his prison, which rattled but, unsurprisingly, held fast. “The least I can do is offer you aid in this form, should disaster strike.”

Bilbo jaw dropped, then closed as his brow furrowed and he cocked his head to the side. “By… eating an apple?”

“The fifth this day,” Thorin said with a look of disgust, as if he wished to do nothing more than chuck the offending fruit across the room, or preferably at a passing elf’s head. “I’m beginning to hate the sight of them.”

“Give it here then, I’ll finish it if it’s such a chore,” Bilbo said, to which Thorin gladly acquiesced, passing the apple through the bars, and Bilbo finished it in short order. The lack of handkerchief meant licking the juices off his hands, but there was no helping it. Thorin stared strangely at the display, only looking away when Bilbo sucked at his fingers, the dwarf’s ears gone bright red beneath the folds of his hair.

“I don’t know how you do that,” Thorin said, after clearing his throat, his voice oddly hoarse. “The mere thought of another bite makes me ill.”

Bilbo looked at him. “Then why _precisely_ are you even trying? It’s going to be at least a few more days before I get us out of here, Thorin, there’s no need to make yourself sick.”

“What else can I do? My only hope is to offer you some healing in return, this is the only way I can lend any aid at all,” Thorin said, frowning down at his hands, and then at the loaf of bread still waiting to be consumed.

“Healing in return…? Oh, _oh!_ Oh, Thorin, no, no no no!” Bilbo dissolved into helpless giggles, clutching his side and Thorin’s hand as he puffed and wheezed. “Oh no! It doesn’t work that way!”

Thorin had gone very stiff and indignant at Bilbo’s outburst, but the severity of his expression fell, melting into confusion as he said, “It does not?”

“No, my dear, not at all! You’re not a hobbit! How on earth could you be expected to lend any of it back, my goodness, the very idea is preposterous!” Bilbo clapped a hand over his mouth at Thorin’s affronted expression.

“I merely thought…” Thorin began as Bilbo’s laughter fell to quiet snickering. He frowned. “Is it so absurd to assume that the bond between us may lend aid in either direction, or that I may try to help you however I can?”

At this Bilbo did sober, wiping a hand over his face and taking with it his grin. “No, no of course not. Indeed, I’m very grateful and touched, truly. There hasn’t been a soul bond between a hobbit and a member of another race in ages, probably not since my Took ancestor and his fairy wife, an elf of course. But I can assure you, we’re well aware of the implications. No, I’m afraid only hobbits have this particular gift. Can you imagine? You’d make yourselves sick trying to keep up with us, our whole lives are built around our little magics! As far as I can tell, you dwarves hardly burn up your food at all, going for days without eating as you do.”

“So I have been forcing down Thranduil’s rabbit food for no reason?” Thorin  growled.

Bilbo offered a wan half-smile. “Well, surely it can’t hurt to keep your own strength up, but no, my dear, it wouldn’t do anything at all.”

Thorin humphed, but nevertheless looked a trifle relieved as he set the loaf of bread aside for later. For a long moment they sat there in silence, listening to the echoes of the underground vaults, the slow drip of distant water and the rushing of the river far below. He only stirred when Bilbo leaned closer, pressing his curly head to the bars and his body as close as it could to where Thorin sat, hands clenching tighter around one another.

“Thank you. It was a lovely thought,” Bilbo murmured. “I will get us out of here, Thorin, I promise.” With that, Bilbo hefted himself to his feet, looking out into the half-lit corridors of the Elvenking’s hall. Back turned, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat, fingering the golden ring.

“Stay safe,” Thorin said quietly behind him. Bilbo nodded, not daring to look back as he rounded the corner, slipping his ring on as soon as he was out of sight. 

As such, Bilbo did not see Thorin’s expression tighten with worry and strain, or the moment he pulled his knees up to his chest, looking at the loaf of bread beside him and away, back to the shadowed halls that swallowed his _kurdel_.

**Author's Note:**

> I do hope you enjoyed! Please consider leaving a comment if so, they are always a delight to read.


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